End of Days
by chimerakt2-4
Summary: An epic tale of survival and the end of the world for Mulder and Scully, their families, friends and colleagues.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**Prologue (part one)**

Light breaks over the dry landscape of mountainous crevasses and valleys all the way to the horizon. A man stand looking out towards the light, slowly turning his back to the warm sunshine, only to be drawn back out to the sun as an object falls from the sky, out of control, landing amidst the dusty rocks.

1400AD

Within the crevasses lies a small village of stone buildings that cling to the rocks. They are a shield to an amass of tunnels, deep within them sits an old wise man, surrounded by young warriors and old women, performing a ritual around a campfire.

Outside the man on the mountain beckons to his friends to follow him, they walk across the mountains, the sun still low in the sky, making their way to the object they saw fall, which billows smoke to guide their way.

The old wise man's ritual heightens as smoke begins to swirl and dance around the small, rotund room, gesturing to the men within it.

The man on the mountain has the object in sight. It is black and grey, triangular in shape, covered in strange symbols he cannot recognise. He walks up to the object, puts his hand against it, the metal burns cold and bleeds black blood. Suddenly, music begins to emanate from the fibre of the object. It is Bach's Brandenberg Concertos, accompanied by a greeting from the planet earth….

The old wise man wakes from his trance with a start and a look of horror on his face. The man on the mountain backs away from the object in fear as it begins to beam with a bright light that makes the men hold their arms over their faces, but it will not stop the burning as the bright light shines for mules throughout the crevasses and valleys, destroying it all in an instant.


	2. Chapter 1

Prologue

**Chapter 1**

21st May, 2009. 5.09pm

A glint of sunlight makes it almost impossible for a young boy to peer through the glass of the Mayan Exhibition on the other side. He is fascinated by the plastic models and the objects they have around them. As the other children on the school trip with him stand away from the exhibits, listening to their tutor, the young blonde boy's blue eyes obsess over the exhibit, and its contents, silently contemplating. He has to be dragged from the glass by his tutor and onto the bus, nevertheless he continues to stare at the objects in the exhibit, a strange metallic piece with symbols on it. His is so deep in concentration that he doesn't notice the woman standing across the room staring at his contemplation. She is tall, brunette, confident, dressed in a pant suit while carrying an unfitting satchel bag.

The exhibit begins to clear for the museum's closing, the security guard concerning himself over the unruly children over by the stuffed mammoth. The woman makes sure of this before putting her hands against the Mayan exhibit, apparently exerting no strength, yet is successful in pushing the glass screen off it's hinges without smashing it. She moves it to the side and puts her hand in, removing the metallic object that the young boy obsessed over 5 minutes earlier. She pulls the object close to her and opens her satchel, within it is a small lead box which she goes to open. She stops, apparently wincing in pain, looking at her hand which has slowly begun to math the colour of the object she holds in her hand, it appears her hand is becoming part of that object. She quickly releases her grip and drops the object into the lead box and closs it locked shut, making her way for the door.

She makes it to the front doors, passing through the security barriers, only for the alarms to start ringing. She runs for the door and the security men chase her out and down the street. However she moves so fast that they can barely keep up with her, they are forced to stop as she shoots forward, past the bus where the young boy sites in a window seat watching it unfold outside.

5.45pm

The bus drops the young boy at home, a large farm out in the middle of nowhere, sparking white with a blue flag, red trim and the symbol of a bull flying high. The boy walks into his house, unceremoniously dropping his bag at the door, anticipating his mother telling him to take his shoes off and doing so before wandering into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it with juice and sitting down at the table. Dinner was always served just before 6pm, the house ran like clockwork, except today the table wasn't even set. He knew his father would just be coming home from working out in the fields all day, but his mother should be there….

He began to move through the house calling "mom!" There was no answer. He tried upstairs and down, but no one was in the house. He came back down and sat at the table, he was only 8 years old and knew that his parents would never leave the house without him. It was only then he noticed the back door open and blowing in the wind, perhaps his parents were outside. He went over to the backdoor, but stopped before moving through. Just out of sight through the glass in the door her could see a hand lying out on the porch. He wearily moved out onto the porch as more of an arm, then a shoulder appeared. By the time he made it outside he had found his mother's body, all but a head which he backed into, rolling it down the back steps, down to where his father's body lay, similarly headless….

The young boy backed into the house in a panic, hitting the table and falling onto the floor, his juice spilling out next to him. He backed himself under the table, brought his knees up to his chest and say where, staring blankly at the hand that continued to taunt him from the other side of the door as it blew open and shut.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

22nd May, 2009. 1.09am

The young boy remains under the table, staring at the hand, at least where it should be, there wasn't a light on in the house and there was no way he could see much outside. The first thing he did notice however, was the sound of people moving around outside. He could hear a woman's voice reacting in surprise to the bodies lying out on the porch and a man answering;

"Is it the parents?

Two bodies…how could he have survived this ? There's no way they wouldn't have found him. No chance of us finding him alive.

He's here. We'll find him, then we'll know."

The boy backed right under the table and brought his breathing right down so as no one could hear him. The two strangers came into the house, he watched as their boots entered the kitchen and began to look around. The man spoke again;

"You start in there, I'll take upstairs. Be careful."

The kitchen went quiet as the two went their separate ways, searching the house with small flashlights guiding the way. 10 minutes passed as the boy heard movement throughout the house, opening and closing of cupboards. He sat rigid as the sounds began to move closer to the kitchen again. The man came downstairs and back into the kitchen. The boy followed the light as it panned over the work surfaces and down to the floor where the broken glass of juice lay. The man bent down to closer examining it, then made the discovery under the table.

"Hey", he whispered, "you alright? Did you go out on the porch? It's all gonna be alright now, we're here to take care of you."

He called to the other stranger with him who came rushing in.

"He's a little shy", said the man, "a bit shaken up, you wanna come out of there?" He gestured to the boy to come out, putting out a hand. The boy held back for a moment, however the man seemed sincere and the boy knew he needed help, he took the man's hand and climbed out from under the table.

"It's gonna be alright now. I promise we'll take good care of you. This will never happen to you again William."

William looked up at the woman in the torchlight, she wasn't a stranger. He recognised her from another time, he remembered her crying.

"I know this'll be difficult to understand, but William, this is your mother."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

10.37am

FBI Headquarters, Washington D.C.

A panel of men in grey suits, all with sombre expressions, sit behind a long, reflective desk. Each man is indifferent to the one next to him, every one alike. Only one man, sitting front and centre differs from the rest, with his receding hair line and horn rimmed glasses. He stares blankly at the dark haired woman sitting on her own in front of the panel, almost staring through her as he speaks his very rehearsed statement.

"Despite all intents and circumstances, and the report today, it is unfortunate that we must decline the application to re open the x files unit. We'll thank you to…."

The words glossed over her, having heard them too many times, in too many rooms like this one. This had been the 17th time that Agent Reyes has been to a meeting like this one. Another failed attempt to open up the past in a last ditch attempt to look after what her predecessors had held so dear for so long.

It was with a heavy heart that she drove to her ex partner's home to regale him of the news she knew he expected.

He lived in the same house as he always had, ever since the death of his own son and the end of his marriage many years earlier. He sat in front of his television, Nascar blaring, his attention turned to the wing of an A-10 Thunderbolt model plane, expertly gluing like he had done this a million times before.

"John?"

She had let herself in, the prize for having come knock on his door one too many times while he was having some down time.

"Hey, there's a cold one in the fridge if you want," he called over as she stood in the doorway, "I assume its been one of those days."

"How can you tell?"

"Because there's never gonna be a positive outcome on this Monica. It doesn't matter how many times you fill in the forms, go to their meetings, wipes their asses for them. They will _always_ say no."

She felt jaded by his words. She knew he would be this way, he gave up a long time ago, and yet she still believed that she would gain some comfort from coming over here and telling him the same old news.

"I don't know how you can be this way John, after everything you saw and did. It can't be over. As long as we keep believing in it, then the work can never die. I won't let it die."

John put down his model, stood up and walked passed her to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

"The x files died a long time ago Monica, when they left, maybe even before that. You gotta ask yourself at what point does this quest your on change from resuscitation to necrophilia", he said the final notes with a harsh sarcasm and held out a beer. She ignored his outstretched hand, looking deep into his eyes.

"I can't give up! I won't. I can't believe you would-

"You could have had a great career at the FBI Monica, if only you'd given this up sooner. Now you've become a laughing stock"

She barbed back a response, "Yeah, well that's not something I'm afraid of. I kept going, through the name calling, through the fear, and you?," he turned away from her to put the beer back on the counter. "You gave up on everything, you tell me I could have had a career, what about you?? You were once the notorious Agent John Doggett, people saw you in the director's chair one day"

"Yeah well now its just plain old John Doggett, Security Guard." He walked up close to her and looked into her eyes. "And I don't care about what people say or think. The old days are gone Monica. You have to move on, it doesn't matter how or where, but everything changes, everything dies."

He picked up a navy blue jacket from the couch, embossed on the back were big yellow letters saying 'SECURITY'. He threw a bundle of keys into her hands.

"I gotta go to work, lock up when you leave."

She stood in the empty house by herself, too angry to cry, the sounds of the car engines racing around the track on television almost sounding like a steam kettle, only emphasising her escalating fear and anger.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

11.30am

F.B.I. Headquarters, Washington

The Deputy Director had endured an awful meeting. One he had experienced close to 20 times over the past 8 years. He felt like a British spy in the Second World War, sent to infiltrate the highest powers in the Nazi Government, to stand there and watch innocent blood shed without saying anything, merely for the greater good. Something told him nothing great or good adorned the FBI's walls anymore. Although the powerful Deputy Director, he had never felt so endangered and vulnerable as he walked down these halls, as if he were walking on a thin, wooden beam, and the walls were made of fire.

When he arrived at his office, he was reminded of why he felt this way. The reason stood behind his desk, looking out the window at the world, chewing on a toothpick. The man didn't even turn to face him before he started questioning.

"I trust the matter was resolved efficiently." More a statement than a question.

"I did what I had to, yes.", replied the Deputy Director. "But she won't stop campaigning to reopen the x files. Her heart is in the cause –

-maybe we should remove her heart then, see what that does for her cause." The toothpick man replied with icy coldness. "After all, keyhole surgery can do wonders nowadays.."

The Deputy Director did not doubt the toothpick man's visceral option, it was only through this man's equally unembellished action 7 years ago that he was even appointed Deputy Director.

As he sat down in his chair he remembered flashes of the event, just after they had all broken Mulder out of prison, no one knowing if it was safe for any of them. He left Agents Doggett and Reyes in the hallway and went in to see the then Deputy Director, only to be witnesses to the man's subsequent beheading by hand, by the person he was so afraid of today.

As the former Deputy Director Kersh's head hit the floor, the toothpick man looked up and said;

"Ah, Assistant Director Skinner, I believe there is an new opening in the FBI Senior Staff that we would like to discuss with you."


End file.
